


Lean On Me

by lokimostly



Series: Rainy Days & Home From War [3]
Category: Kong: Skull Island (2017)
Genre: Angst to Fluff, Chronic Pain, F/M, Injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-23
Updated: 2020-01-23
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:22:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22372510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lokimostly/pseuds/lokimostly
Summary: A tiring day of travel gives way to even more unexpected difficulties and the reopening of old wounds.
Relationships: James Conrad & Original Female Character(s), James Conrad/Original Female Character(s), James Conrad/Reader, James Conrad/You
Series: Rainy Days & Home From War [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1411123
Comments: 1
Kudos: 31





	Lean On Me

James’s ears pricked up and he paused. The shirt in his hands remained half-folded as his eyebrows pulled together in a frown. Either his senses were playing tricks on him, or a string of curses had just left your mouth in the direction of the hotel bathroom.

A small crash and another curse. No, he’d _definitely_ heard right. 

He sighed, dropping his shirt on the bedspread. It was dark outside the open window. traveling from Paris to Milan, a ten hour trip by train, had thoroughlyexhausted you both. The city lights twinkled through the screened glass as he crossed the floor of the suite. He rapped his knuckles against the bathroom door– it was slightly adjacent, but he erred on the side of caution anyway, leaning against the doorframe. “You alright?”

“I’m _fine_ ,” came your voice, a bit too harshly, from the other side. Conrad’s eyes narrowed and he paused. He knew you well enough by now to understand that you meant the exact opposite of your words. You weren’t fine. Whether or not you would resist help, however… well, he would only know once he pushed open the door.

He turned over his options silently for a moment longer before taking hold of the doorknob and opening it, peering inside the hotel bathroom. You were leaning awkwardly against the wall, your face contorted in poorly-masked pain as you struggled to support your own weight on your one good leg. Your old wound was clearly acting up again.

Conrad was at your side in an instant, lifting you up into his arms like you weighed nothing and holding you firmly against his chest. An audible wince escaped you, but you pushed away from him anyway, making futile attempts to get him to let you down. “I _said_ I’m fine, James–”

“Clearly,” he responded flatly, letting you down on the bed, shoving aside his carry-on bag to make space for you. He eased you down with exceeding carefulness, rising to his feet to retrieve pain medicine from your carry-on.

James felt a pillow hit his back and turned around, raising his eyebrows and drawing his mouth into a thin line of annoyance. “What was that for?”

“I’m not an invalid.”

“I never said you were.”

You scowled back at him, pushing yourself up and off the mattress. “I can get it myself,” you insisted stubbornly. Your injury, however, decided otherwise. As soon as your left foot hit the floor, your leg crumpled beneath your weight. You stumbled forward, hitting Conrad’s chest as he caught you against him, _again_. Damn the man’s impeccable sense of timing.

Your name left his lips gently, his tone soothing and calm. Conrad waited for the resistance in your arms to release, and you fell limp against him. He set his cheek against your head with a heavy sigh.

“Darling, it’s not your fault,” he murmured, eyebrows creased together. He felt your fingers dig into the fabric of his shirt, but you said nothing. Your chest shook with every exhale. The tension still held in the muscles of your arms as you clung to him told him that you were still in a great deal of pain, and it cracked his heart in half.

When you finally spoke, your voice shaky and trembling, his halved heart did nothing short of crumble.

“I just thought I’d be better by now,” you admitted quietly against his shoulder. 

Conrad didn’t reply. For a moment you thought he hadn’t heard you at all, until you felt him press a kiss to the side of your head, lifting you up and setting you on the edge of the bed once more. He eased your left leg down as it bent, trying not to wince at your reactionary outcry. 

None of the doctors had mentioned the side effects that came after a break like the one you had suffered during the LandSat excursion almost a year ago. The bending fracture in your left femur healed easily enough, but the tissue around it didn’t take as well to such a crippling injury. It had resulted in frequent insomnia, constant ache and – like what you were experiencing right now – bursts of crippling chronic pain. 

Conrad was patient in playing your recovery by ear, but you were less inclined to go easy on yourself. It was _beyond_ maddening that you were unable to walk on a whim. Even though your episodes were becoming less frequent, it was still debilitating – and often frustrating to the point of tears.

You waited on the edge of the bed, bunching the fabric of the duvet cover in your hands while he retrieved pain medicine and a glass of water, handing both to you. You downed them silently and let him take the empty cup. James returned a moment later, kneeling in front of you and setting his large hand on your knee. 

You relented, giving him a barely-perceptible nod and letting out a long, slow breath. Conrad took it as permission to kneel between your legs and take your left leg up beneath your knee, running through the motions of extending it and forcing the muscles to unbind. He moved his hands slowly, with practiced care, murmuring words of comfort when your muscles contracted in pain. You held onto his shoulder, gripping tightly and gritting your teeth when a wave of pain would travel up your spine. This was something the two of you had done many times before, but that didn’t make it any easier. 

Uncounted minutes passed before the pain subsided. Some combination of the medicine and the patient work of his hands finally unbound the scarred tissue around your upper thigh, and you relaxed, slumping against him.

“I can’t imagine why you put up with this,” you confessed, with lingering frustration in your voice – which was somewhat muffled, given that you were talking against his shoulder.

Still, Conrad heard you, and pressed a kiss to the side of your temple. “I love you,” he replied, pulling away to look at your face. “Is that not reason enough?”

You gave him a petulant pout and dropped your eyes, playing with the v-cut neckline that revealed _just_ enough of his muscular chest. “I _guess_ ,” you relented with childlike stubbornness. You traced your finger over his skin, running your nail lightly down the center of his chest. “I love you too.”

Conrad smiled and exhaled softly. “Really?”

You scoffed and laughed, leaning forward to kiss him, but it was woefully short, and he pulled you back for another. “You _know_ that,” you reminded him when he finally pulled away, leaving behind the lingering scent of vanilla and sandalwood. It was a familiar, comforting smell, though admittedly cleaner than when you first met him: back then, he always smelled of firewood, too. 

“You chucked a pillow at me. I wasn’t so sure anymore,” James replied, with a look of mock innocence that was almost convincing, if not for the devilish twinkle in his blue-green eyes. He ducked his head down for another kiss and you laughed, pushing against his chest, but nowhere near hard enough to dissuade him from landing one right on your cheek. You rolled your eyes. “You’re a tease.”

“Don’t tempt me,” he countered darkly, planting a kiss in the crook of your neck, with the _audacity_ to graze his teeth on your skin in the way he knew would make you shiver. You gasped and laughed, covering his hand with your mouth to prevent him from doing anything further.

He made a muffled sound and peeled your hand away, pressing a kiss to the inside of your wrist before letting go. His eyes met yours and his expression sobered. “How does it feel?”

You sighed, pressing your lips together and swallowing your pride. You lifted your leg cautiously off of the bedspread, waiting for a contraction of pain with bated breath.

Nothing came.

You allowed yourself to exhale and nodded. “I think I could stand,” you venture cautiously.

“Are you sure?” He asked, taking your hands. “We don’t have to rush.”

You shook your head, setting your feet on the floor. “No, I’m sure.” That wasn’t really the truth; you had little confidence in your own abilities. You did, however, have complete trust in the fact that Conrad would be there to catch you if you fell.

Conrad stood to his feet and held your hands expectantly. You took one more breath and put weight on your feet at the same time as he pulled you up with your hands, bringing you to stand in one smooth motion.

Your leg wobbled and you tightened your grip on his hands, your eyes fixed to the floor. He moved slightly, and you panicked, digging your nails into his skin for fear of falling. “Don’t –”

“I’m not,” he reassured you, adjusting his grip and sliding his hand up one of your arms, wrapping his other snugly around your waist. He held you against the wall of his chest, letting you reach up with your free hand and wrap it over his shoulder. You laughed suddenly when you realized the position you were in was typical of a slow dance, except that you were standing mostly-immobilized in the middle of a quiet hotel suite, and he was acting only as an incredibly handsome crutch.

Conrad hummed in his chest, reverberating against your ear. “What?”

You shook your head, smirking. It seemed silly. “We’re dancing,” you explained, and laughed again through your nose. “You know– without going out for drinks, the music, or actually _seeing_ Italy.”

Conrad chuckled, stepping away from the bed with you held securely in his arms. “This is good enough for me,” he reassured you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head and beginning to sway, holding you firmly in his muscular arms.

You clung to his shoulder, your fingers gripping so tight that your knuckles paled. You swallowed a rise in your pride and exhaled sharply, confessing your weakness. “I can’t be much of a dance partner, though. Just rocking back and forth.”

Conrad’s grip around your waist tightened and he dipped his head down, setting it against yours. “Lean on me,” he suggested lowly, his mouth hovering over your ear.

You nodded. You released any remaining tension or inhibition, allowing him fully to support you. The two of you began to sway in silence- Conrad would take a step forward and you would follow his lead, trusting his feet instead of your own. Soon you were circling in a gentle waltz, swaying to the sounds of the city outside instead of a vinyl record. His arm caught your weight whenever your leg shook with uncertainty: only once did it actually buckle, and he caught you without pause, continuing to glide across the floor. 

He lifted you up and you gasped a laugh, holding onto both his shoulders before he set you down just as fluidly and continued on.

“I didn’t know you were so good at this,” you admitted coyly, inhaling quickly when he spun you and pulled you against him with your back to his chest.

You could hear his smile in his words. “I’m a man of many talents,” he admonished, trying to sound humble. It made you smirk, and when he pulled you back to face him again you reached up to plant a kiss on his lips. Your dancing slowed to a sway as his attention turned more to your lips, moving against them without hurry, tasting sweet with every repeated kiss. 

You caught his lower lip _gently_ between your teeth, and he chuckled. His breath fanned pleasantly against your skin, raising goosebumps. “I think our first night in Italy is going to be a memorable one.” 

You nodded, reaching up and linking your arms lazily behind his neck, deliberately toying with the hem of his shirt. Just because you weren’t going out tonight didn’t mean you would be denied your fair share of fun. “Yeah… I think so, too.” 


End file.
